


Skin

by HaneGaNai (nezstorm)



Category: Bleach
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Sensuality, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 12:25:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10786713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nezstorm/pseuds/HaneGaNai
Summary: He wanted to feel him close, closer than carnality allowed. To melt in one and never break apart, to not have to tear himself away from him. Every moment of touch, even the slightest one, was unbelievably precious. So precious, that if he had to, he would pay for it with his life.





	Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting old works.

He wanted to feel him close, closer than carnality allowed. To melt in one and never break apart, to not have to tear himself away from him. Every moment of touch, even the slightest one, was unbelievably precious. So precious, that if he had to, he would pay for it with his life.

Accidental brushes, fleeting caresses, purposeful journeys of lips, fingers, tongues, teeth, hands, body's. The friction of skin on skin. Oh, how incredible seconds, minutes, moments, days those were. He could spend endless hours on exploring this, already well-known, body. Those strawberry-scented hair, sweet lips. He could melt in those brown eyes, so warm, strong, loving, proud. Noble even in those most intimate, most experience- full moments, when nothing covered them, when they threw away all barriers and coverings aside, opening themselves for one another shamelessly. Clouded with desire when the climax was nearing. Delightfully half-lidded just after becoming one.

He loved his long fingers entangling in his red hair, stroking them, combing, finding unexplained pleasure in taking care of them. Fingers, that always knew where to be, how to press, whisper on his skin exciting her, inflaming.  **Oh, more** . Pulsating with warmth, love, everything that was beyond words. So wonderfully they played him almost driving him mad.

The smell of freedom. Summer rain soothing his inflamed skin or making the skin burn. Strong, never disturbed. Lasting. He often buried his face in their bed-clothes, while his (his, his,  **His** ) teenager was taking a shower after their shared night. Those were the moments when his smell, he soaked through him strongest. In those moments he almost became him.

And that taste.  **Oh** . That incredibly rich, lavishly experience-giving taste. Spicy and sweet at the same time. That taste had something of summer – hot, ample in juicy fruits. Summer calling to sink in him and give oneself to him completely.

He longed to touch, for him, like nothing else in the world. But sometimes that skin, those fingers, hands were only in the way. They weren't enough. That barrier drove him mad, separated them, when they could create a perfect entirety. When they could unite like nobody else. Or when it was covered with scars and he cursed, that their skin was so weak and it allowed the insides of the person most precious to him to get hurt, that it let through claws, fangs, swords but never let him bury himself in Ichigo. Even further than he is buried in him now.

But even though he cursed that dearest to him body-cover sometimes, he was glad that it separated him from his lover. For, if it allowed them to melt, unite with each other, how would he be able to want to and receive touch. If they became one, there wouldn't be any more brushes and caresses, for how could he stroke his own cheek? How to plant a kiss on those sweet lips? How to look into those eyes burning with desire in an answer to  **him** ?

Like in this delightful moment, just after their fulfillment. When their breaths were still rushed. He was glad, that they weren't one and that he could embrace that inflamed body in  **his** arms.


End file.
